


After the Fall: The Bluff Eroded

by hannigraMadancy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: After the Fall, Attraction, Feelings, Hannibal does not approve, Hannibal's Loss of Control, Healing, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, In Hiding, In Love, Injury Recovery, M/M, Moving On, On the Run, Serious Injuries, Slow Burn, Soup for days, Stitches, Tending to injuries, Uncertainty, Vulnerable Hannibal, Will helps, Will is patient, Will visits his dogs, Will wears Hannibal's clothes, minor weight gain, nursing back to health, post-series finale, spoon feeding, talks of the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigraMadancy/pseuds/hannigraMadancy
Summary: A post-series finale fic in which Will and Hannibal hide out and recover from their injuries while simultaneously attempting to gauge the dynamics of their altered relationship.





	1. Roiling Atlantic

**Author's Note:**

> A year and a half later, I have finally finished this slow-burning, post-finale fic. It's entirely my way of dealing with all of it (the fall, the cancellation, the oh-so-many feels!), but I hope you all enjoy it as well. :D

With his arms around Hannibal, Will felt weightless. They fell as one, all of their flaws and attributes melding together as their bodies raced towards the water below. The spray from the roiling Atlantic reached them before they met the surface. Will was certain that it was the end.

When they hit, Will's breath was knocked from his lungs and he lost his hold on Hannibal. He had always heard that hitting the water's surface from such great heights was akin to landing on concrete. As his body ached from the impact, he could attest to that. As he sank below the surface, his body immediately reacted, clawing and pumping until his head was above water once again.

The moonlight glistened on the black ocean, allowing him only the slightest light by which to see. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to discern that Hannibal had not broken the surface.

"Hannibal!" Will hollered, his voice raspy and winded.

Panic set in, and Will didn't take the time to analyze what that meant in regards to his feelings for Hannibal. Instead, he ducked below the surface and began his blind search for the doctor. He swam in the blackened water, flailing against the waves as much as possible, in the hope that part of him would eventually touch something other than water.

Each time he resurfaced, he was closer to the rocks. The waves crashed into him, drawing him closer and closer to the cliff face. He felt rocks beneath him and tried to avoid them as the next wave broke. He was washed farther in, and his body was surrounded by jagged water-weathered rocks. He braced himself for another wave and then fumbled to get a solid hold on the edge of a rock, but he was surprised when it felt soft. Softer than it should have felt for a rock anyway. And it was moving, at least slightly, and in time with the ebb and flow.

"Hannibal!" Will yelled again.

The doctor let out a quiet moan, and Will grabbed a hold of him tightly. They couldn't stay there. The waves were crashing too hard and with the chill in the air, they would both be hypothermic within the hour.

"We have to swim," Will instructed.

Hannibal groaned again.

"Hannibal, do you hear me? We can't stay here."

Hannibal said nothing, and Will squinted at him. In the moonlight, he could just make out the slightest nod from the doctor. Or at least what he assumed was a nod.

"We'll go after the next big wave," Will said. "Okay?"

He didn't expect an answer, but a moment later, Hannibal whispered, "Okay."

Will grabbed a hold of Hannibal's arm as the next wave developed. He braced himself as it hit, and when the water began to recede, he yelled, "Now!"

When Will kicked off, he half expected Hannibal to remain where he was. But the doctor moved alongside him. They both dove beneath the surface, swimming farther out to sea and away from the jagged rocks. Will couldn't see anything but felt the doctor bump into him every few seconds. With their injuries and inability to see in the darkened water, Will could have assumed the gentle bumps were coincidental, but somehow he felt that they were completely intentional on the doctor's part.

Will swam underwater until his lungs burned, and then he resurfaced. Hannibal bumped into his legs and then, a moment later, resurfaced nearby.

"We need to get to shore," Will said. "It's not far."

He could barely see in front of his own face in the moonlight, but he had a sense of where they were. And he knew the cliffs evened out to sea level not too far from the house they had been in a short time ago.

"Let's go," Will said. He could see tiny lights in the distance that acted as a beacon. He turned towards them and glanced over his shoulder in time to see Hannibal sink below the surface.

Will reached out for him but wasn't quick enough. Hannibal was out of sight, and Will dove below the surface after him. He dove straight down and found the doctor quickly. He grabbed him beneath the arms and swam for the surface.

When their heads were above water again, Will gasped for air. He leaned back with his arms around Hannibal, the doctor resting against his chest. Will let them float for a moment as he put two fingers against the doctor's neck, searching for a pulse. When he felt the distinctive thud against his fingertips, he put his hand beneath the doctor's nose. When he felt warm air hit his palm, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He kept one arm across Hannibal’s chest and used the other to paddle towards the tiny beacons in the distance. The swim took significantly longer than Will had hoped. Having to swim for both of them left Will exhausted and out of breath by the time they neared the shore. Hannibal had said nothing and hadn't made a single sound the entire time, and Will hoped he was still just unconscious.

As Will reached the shore, the ferocity of the waves increased. He had to work harder to keep both of their heads above water. As waves pounded into them, Will felt the earth below. He put his feet down and used both hands to drag Hannibal out of the ocean.

After such a long swim, and no longer buoyant in the water, Hannibal's body felt much heavier. Will was only able to drag him a few feet before he collapsed into the sand. He was on his back, and Hannibal's motionless body was partially on top of him, the doctor's head resting on Will's stomach. Will breathed heavily, Hannibal's head moving up and down steadily with each of Will's breaths.

The tide was high. With every few flows it would reach the two of them, forcing Will to lift his own head to keep from drowning.

Will's face throbbed, and his shoulder ached. But he stayed put only long enough to catch his breath and muster what little strength he could. After another wave washed over them, Will wriggled out from beneath Hannibal's body. He checked for the doctor's breath and pulse once again, and when he was satisfied that Hannibal was still alive, he grabbed a hold of him. He slipped his hands under the doctor's arms and dragged him farther away from the shore. When the waves no longer reached them, Will eased Hannibal back down to the sand.

Will breathed heavily as he knelt beside the doctor. He gently pinched the hem of Hannibal's sweater between his thumb and forefinger and peeled the fabric away from the doctor's skin. Will's breath caught at the sight of the bullet wound in Hannibal's belly. He had seen countless gunshot wounds before, so the sight itself wasn't what shocked him. He looked up at Hannibal's face. The doctor lay still, with his eyes closed and his head resting in the sand. His shorter hair was soaked, and a few pieces were matted to his forehead, making him appear somehow younger and more vulnerable.

Will returned his gaze to Hannibal's belly. The wound had been rinsed clean by the sea, only a small amount of blood having seeped from the hole since they had reached land. The bleeding had slowed, but Will needed it to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments. They are the glue that holds my writing life together. ;D


	2. Save Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will races to save Hannibal and procure a vehicle to make their escape.

Will needed something to pack the wound. He took a glance around the deserted beach. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but a part of him knew he wouldn't find it there. Instead, he grabbed the fabric near the collar of his sea-soaked shirt. He pulled it up over his head, wringing it out as best he could.

He knew that dry cloth would work better, but it was all he had. The chill in the air sent a shiver down his bare spine as he ripped his shirt in two. He balled up one half and pressed it against the exit wound in Hannibal's belly.

His shoulder ached and his face stung, but he tried to ignore the pain, knowing Hannibal's injury was much more of a priority.

He left the balled up shirt where it was – with the second half draped over his thigh -- and removed his belt. He worked it beneath Hannibal's body, snaking it around his midsection. He let the ends fall and retrieved the unused shirt half from his lap. He balled it up and worked it beneath the doctor, pressing it firmly against the entry wound. Will adjusted the back of the belt so that it was directly beneath the shirt and the bullet wound.

He grabbed both ends of the belt and pulled it together, snaking the leather end through the buckle. He balled up the fabric that had loosened over the exit wound. He held it in place with one hand and used his other to tighten the belt. When he was certain the two makeshift compresses were in good position over Hannibal's bullet wounds, he pulled the belt as tight as he thought he could without doing damage or cutting off circulation. Then, he fastened it to keep it in place.

With pressure on Hannibal's wounds, Will knew he needed to find someplace warm for them to stay. The ocean had left them soaked, and it was only a matter of time before the frosty night air made them hypothermic. Will glanced around the beach again. The area was dim, illuminated only by the light of the clear night sky.

There was a road just up the beach. And woods on the other side. He could see lights in the distance and knew they were from houses.

Houses that would most certainly have cars parked outside.

Will had never been a master at hot-wiring but he knew how. In theory, anyway. It was time for him to put his hypothetical skills to the test.

But he couldn't take Hannibal. He had barely gotten them both to shore, and that was only because the sea had done half of the work. He knew he couldn't carry -- or drag -- Hannibal's motionless body across the beach to the nearest house. He wasn't sure he could do it on a good day, with Hannibal conscious. He certainly wasn't confident in his ability -- or lack thereof -- to carry Hannibal's soaked dead weight now that he had a bad shoulder and was utterly exhausted after the swim. He would have to leave the doctor behind and come back for him afterwards.

Will wasn't sure how long Hannibal could lie exposed and wet in the cold night air, but he didn't know what other choice he had. Deciding that time was of the essence, Will got to his feet and jogged towards the lights in the distance. He broke out into a sprint, his legs burning from the extra effort in the soft sand.

By the time he reached the road at the edge of the beach, Will was running on fumes. He pushed the discomfort from his mind and continued towards the nearest set of lights. He was so focused on getting to the house that he didn't see the vehicle that rounded the corner, headed straight towards him.

Tires squealed, and Will felt his heart leap into his throat. He barely had time to react as he dove to the side of the road. He was overwhelmed with relief when the SUV swerved to miss him.

He propped himself up and panted for breath as the vehicle skidded to a stop, kicking up rocks as it did so. The driver's side door flung open, and a woman leapt out. She turned towards Will and gasped.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" she shrieked.

Will felt himself nodding reflexively. He clambered to his feet, stumbling slightly as he caught his balance.

"Oh no," the woman said as she hurried closer. "You're hurt."

Will shook his head. She had missed him, and his dive to the ground hadn't done any damage. But the woman was staring at the side of his face. Then, her eyes flitted back and forth between his face and his bare shoulder, and Will knew she was staring at the wounds he had already sustained earlier that night.

"Let me get you some help. I can call an ambulance. Or I can take you myself. Are you sure you're all right? You're bleeding..."

"I'm okay," Will muttered.

"Let me get-- I have a blanket. Hold on."

Will contained a sigh as the woman spun around and ran back to her vehicle before Will even had a chance to reply. He looked towards the beach. It was too dark to see very far, but Hannibal was still back there. Freezing. Bleeding. Will didn't have time to waste.

He found himself walking forward, towards the woman and her vehicle. As he neared, he peered through the windows, but he saw no one else. The woman had the hatch open, leaning in as she rummaged through a duffel bag.

Will crept up behind her and when she stood upright with a blanket in her arms, he grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arm around her neck.

She let out a strangled cry as the blanket fell to the asphalt. She clawed at his arms and tried to kick him, but even drained and injured and winded, Will easily held onto her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered. "I just need a vehicle."

His words did nothing to quell her fears, and she continued to struggle. Will tightened his arm around her neck. She fought him for several seconds that seemed like hours before her petite body went limp.

He dragged her away from the roadside and into the sand of the beach. He eased her down to the ground and whispered, "I'm sorry," as he turned back to the SUV. He grabbed the blanket from the road, closed the hatch, and slid behind the wheel.

He drove the vehicle straight onto the beach and back to where he had left Hannibal. He threw it into park and jumped out, opening the passenger side door. He hurried to where Hannibal's motionless body still lay in the sand. He hooked his hands beneath Hannibal's arm pits and dragged him to the waiting vehicle. His biceps burned and his shoulder throbbed as he lifted Hannibal's body up into the SUV. Once he maneuvered the doctor inside, he closed the door and jogged around to the driver's side.

As he put the car in gear and drove away from the beach, he tossed the blanket over Hannibal and cranked up the heat.

The only thing he had left to do was to figure out where to go.


	3. Tending Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will drives Hannibal & himself to safety where he tends to each of their wounds.

Will had driven northeast for nearly thirty minutes when Hannibal stirred beside him. The doctor shifted in his seat and let out a groan.

"Good evening, Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal said nothing. Instead, he pulled the blanket down and began to fidget with the belt around his midsection.

"Leave it," Will said. "It's holding pressure on your wounds."

Hannibal examined it with weak hands. After a few moments, his hands fell to his lap. He must have been satisfied.

"Where are we going?" the doctor rasped after a minute had passed.

"I'm not sure. Northeast."

"Get on the interstate.”

"Okay. To where?"

"I know a place," Hannibal said by way of an explanation.

Will had barely pulled directions out of him before Hannibal passed out again. Will glanced at him, taking note of the ashen color his skin had taken.

Will had only an idea of how far their destination was. But he knew that once they arrived, he would need supplies. He thought it best to stop as soon as possible so the stolen car would have less chance of being recognized the closer they got to their end point.

He veered into the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour drug store. He pulled down the visor and looked at his reflection. His cheek had stopped bleeding. He spit into his hand, swiping at his face, trying to wipe away as much dried blood as he could. When he thought he was presentable enough not to terrify any people he might encounter, he got out of the car. He was still shirtless and knew he couldn’t go into the store without raising suspicion – even more suspicion than his obvious facial wound would raise. He opened the back door of the SUV and rummaged around the seat. There was a cooler on the floorboard alongside a pair of boots. There was also another blanket on the seat, and draped on top of that was a jacket. Will snatched the jacket, pulling it on and zipping it up. It was too big on him, but it would serve his purposes. He hurried inside, leaving the car -- and heat -- running for Hannibal. Once inside the store, he stocked up on medical supplies, food, and drinks they would both need to help them recover.

The cashier eyed him strangely when he checked out. Will offered a small smile.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."

She nodded slowly. "That's good," she uttered.

When she had finished ringing up the supplies, he paid, thanked her, and hurried out of the store.

When he returned to the SUV, he flung the purchases in the back and climbed behind the wheel. Hannibal was still in place, and Will reached over, pressing two fingers to the side of his neck.

"I'm still alive," Hannibal whispered.

Will smiled as much as the gaping hole in his cheek would allow. He dropped his hand from the doctor's neck, put the vehicle in gear, and got back on the road.

***

Will had been driving for several hours when he finally got off the interstate. Hannibal had been in and, mostly, out for the duration of the drive, and he was unconscious when Will took the specified exit. Hannibal had only given vague directions earlier that night, and Will followed them as well as he could. By the time they reached their destination, the sky had turned a dim blue-gray, softly illuminating the small, secluded cabin in the mountains.

Will killed the engine and got out of the vehicle. He jogged up onto the porch of the cabin and checked the handle. He found it locked and, without hesitation, used his elbow to break out a pane of the window on the door. He slowly snaked his arm through the hole and unlocked the door from the inside. He pushed it open and then hurried back to the SUV, opening Hannibal’s door.

“Honey, we’re home,” he said dryly, suddenly glad that the doctor was unconscious for that one.

But when Will grabbed a hold of him, he wished that Hannibal were awake. His shoulder ached furiously as he eased Hannibal out of the vehicle. He hooked his hands beneath the doctor’s arms and dragged him backwards towards the cabin. He slowly pulled him up onto the porch and over the threshold.

Once they were inside and clear of the broken glass in the entry, Will gently set the doctor down. He collapsed to the floor, leaning against the back of the couch as he panted. His shoulder throbbed, and he unzipped his jacket to examine his injury. As he pulled the fabric away from his shoulder, he saw that the knife wound had begun to bleed again.

“Shit,” he muttered. It wasn’t much, but he had already lost more than enough blood. He would have to get it sewn up as soon as possible.

But after he took care of Hannibal.

He glanced at Hannibal who hadn’t moved since Will had dragged him inside the cabin. Will left him where he was and got to his feet. He wound through the house, looking for a bathroom. He turned on lights as he went, half-surprised when they actually worked. When he found the bathroom, he rummaged through the cabinets until he discovered several white towels stacked neatly on the shelves. He pulled out a few and returned to the living room.

He shook open a couple of the towels and draped them over the couch cushions. Then, he walked around to Hannibal. His clothes were still damp, but Will thought it more prudent to close up his wounds. He could focus on keeping him warm afterwards.

Will jogged back outside to the SUV. He retrieved the bags of supplies from the back seat and hurried into the cabin. He closed the door, set the bags on the coffee table in front of the couch, and walked back to Hannibal.

Will took in a deep breath and grabbed a hold of the doctor again. He dragged him around to the front of the couch and maneuvered his body up onto the towel-covered cushions. He pulled his sweater up away from the belt that was still in place around his midsection. Will worked the sweater off of the doctor’s body and tossed it to the floor, out of the way.

He unbuckled the belt and slowly loosened it with one hand, using the other to pull back the balled up shirt. He watched the wound for blood but none seeped out. He checked the bullet hole in Hannibal’s back as well and when he saw no new blood, Will let out a relieved sigh. He loosened the belt completely and set to work, rummaging through the new supplies he had bought.

He cleaned and disinfected the wound, took his time to carefully sew it up, applied antibiotic ointment, and covered it with a clean bandage. Then, he shifted Hannibal onto his side and tended to the wound in his back.

When he finished, Will cleaned up the used supplies and took them to the trash can in the bathroom. Then, he found a wash cloth. He dampened it with warm water and returned to the living room. He gently dabbed at Hannibal’s skin, cleaning up the remainder of the dried blood, not only on his back and stomach, but on his face as well.

Will tried not to re-live the moments that had caused that. Instead, he dabbed gently at the doctor’s mouth. His lips were parted slightly and in his unconscious state, the lines of his face looked much less severe than usual.

When the doctor’s face was clean again, Will removed Hannibal’s shoes and socks. He hesitated removing the doctor’s trousers, but they were still damp. He reached around Hannibal, who was facing the back of the couch, and unfastened his pants. He worked them off as gently as he could, tossing them onto the floor with the wash cloth and the rest of the doctor’s clothes. He eyed Hannibal’s boxers but quickly decided against removing them. He used a towel to dry any remaining dampness on the doctor’s skin.

He wandered the cabin again until he found a linen closet in a hallway. He retrieved some blankets and returned to the living room, draping two of them over the unconscious doctor. Then, he went to the fireplace across from the couch, glad to see that the logs were already in place. He found a lighter on the mantel, got a fire going, and then grabbed the medical supplies, going into the bathroom to tend to his own wounds.

He removed the stolen jacket, cringing at the sight of the blood that had recently trickled down from his shoulder, adding a bright red streak to the darker, dried blood beneath it. He awkwardly used his left hand to clean, close, and bandage the wound. Then, he did the same with the gash in his cheek.

Both wounds stung and throbbed more than he thought possible, and he was suddenly reminded of the knife wound Hannibal had given him years earlier. He eyed the scar across his belly and let out a sigh. That night seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then.

Hell, he had created a family for himself since then.

Will’s stomach seized at the thought of his family. Molly and Walter and his brood of dogs. They would be missed, as he was sure they would miss him as well. They didn’t deserve to be abandoned by him, but the two of them were strong. They would heal and move on with their lives, and they would take care of the dogs. Even if those dogs reminded them of Will, they would take care of them. One of Will’s favorite things about the two of them had been that they loved the dogs as much as he did. And now that the Dragon was dead – and now that Hannibal had what he wanted – Will knew they would all be safe.

Will finished in the bathroom and left the room, turning off the light as he went. He wandered until he found a bedroom. Then, he went inside and opened the closet, not at all surprised to see that it was completely full of clothes. He plucked a navy blue sweater from a hanger and pulled it on. He assumed it was Hannibal’s and expected it to be loose on him, but it fit well. He wondered if Hannibal had simply been thinner the last time he had used the cabin or if he, himself, had filled out a bit in the past few years.

He rummaged through a stocked dresser until he found a pair of pajama bottoms. He removed his pants and boxers, fishing the car keys from his pants pocket. He pulled on the new pants and tied them in front. Then, he returned to the living room where he glanced around the cozy space. He spotted a desk against the wall opposite the front door. He walked to it and tucked the keys into a drawer. Then, he turned around to face Hannibal on the couch.

Hannibal hadn’t moved since Will had left him. Will gathered up the rest of the items he had purchased at the drug store. He took the bags to the kitchen, tucked the drinks into the working refrigerator, and left everything else on the counter. Then, he went back to the living room where he turned off the light and collapsed into a recliner.

He kicked up the footrest and lay back. As his eyelids grew heavy, he watched Hannibal sleep, the golden light from the fireplace dancing across his shoulder blades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome! :D ♥


	4. Baptism by Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal awakens for the first time since arriving at the cabin, gauging the new situation between Will & himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took an unplanned break from editing this fic, but I hope to get back to it on a regular basis. :D Thanks to those of you who have stuck with it! ♥♥♥

Hannibal awoke to an intense pain in his abdomen. He found it difficult to think. He reached out, intent on finding the source of his pain and stopping it by whatever means necessary. His hand bumped against something solid, and he wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing as tightly as he could.

“It’s all right,” a familiar voice coaxed.

Hannibal opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, and he blinked several times until it cleared. Will’s face came into focus.

“What are you doing?” Hannibal asked. His voice was quiet and raspy, and he hated how weak it sounded.

“I’m changing your bandages,” Will said, his words melding together oddly.

Hannibal stared at him, confused. He studied the younger man’s face, seeing that he had a bandage of his own over his right cheek.

It all came back to him at once. The prison transport escape. The house on the cliff. The Red Dragon.

_The fall_.

He took in a deep breath that made his stomach and back ache even more. Then, he let go of Will’s wrist.

Will smiled. It was a small, crooked smile. Different from his usual smile. Hannibal chalked it up to the knife wound in his face. He wondered if Will would ever again smile like he used to.

“How is it?” Hannibal whispered.

“You lost a lot of blood,” Will said. “But on the plus side, you seem to have a bit more color than you did a couple days ago.”

Hannibal shook his head. “I meant your cheek.”

“Oh.” Will shrugged a shoulder and looked away. “It’s fine.”

Hannibal felt pressure against his stomach again. “And your shoulder,” he added, remembering the second injury the Dragon had inflicted on Will.

“That’s fine too.”

“You need stitches.”

Will smirked. “I have them.”

Hannibal stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I did it myself,” he finally said without looking at Hannibal. “Yours too.”

Hannibal lifted his head, looking down towards his stomach. The gunshot wound was exposed while Will cleaned it, and Hannibal could see the dark stitches that held it closed.

“And the back?”

Will nodded.

Hannibal rested his head on the couch again as it began to pound. He closed his eyes. “You said ‘a couple days.’”

“Hm?” Will hummed.

Hannibal could feel the younger man securing a bandage over his belly wound. “It’s been two days?”

“That’s what ‘a couple’ means, right?”

Hannibal opened his eyes and looked at the empath. He smiled gently. He had missed Will’s smart comments.

“I’d like for you to eat something,” Will said a few moments later.

Hannibal didn’t feel hungry, but he knew his body needed the nourishment. Especially if it had been two days since he had last eaten. “Do we have anything?”

“I picked up a few things. Mostly soups and instant rice and potatoes.” Will looked at him and smirked. “Sorry. I think we’re going to have to get used to a lower quality of food for a while.”

“We are nothing if not adaptable.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Will said. Then, “I need you to roll over.”

Hannibal nodded. Slowly, he turned to face the back of the couch. Will’s hands were on him, steadying him as he settled onto his left side. When he was in position, he felt the gentle pulling of his skin as Will removed the bandage on his lower back.

Hannibal let his eyes close as Will tended to the wound. By the time he had finished, Hannibal had nearly drifted off. Will applied a new bandage and pulled the blanket up to Hannibal’s shoulder.

“I’ll get some soup going.”

Hannibal wasn’t sure how much his body would allow him to eat, but he wasn’t about to argue. For one, he knew he needed the sustenance, and two, he doubted Will would listen to him if he were to protest.

But Hannibal found it difficult to keep his eyes open. He knew it was from the loss of blood and lack of nutrients over the last two days. He fought the urge to sleep and a few minutes later, Will returned to the room.

Hannibal smelled the distinct aroma of canned chicken noodle soup. His nose burned with the scent, and he tried not to cringe.

“I know it’s not exactly _gourmet_ ,” Will said, as though reading his mind. “But it’s nourishment. And it’s all we have at the moment.” He paused and then added, “Unless you want vegetable soup instead. I’m not sure I’m really up to making potatoes or anything.”

“This will be fine,” Hannibal said, letting out a quiet groan as he rolled onto his back.

“Can you sit up at all?”

Hannibal nodded. He wasn’t sure he could, but he was certainly going to try. He eyed Will who stood in front of the couch, holding the bowl of soup with his left hand. His right arm hung limply at his side.

“Your shoulder is not fine,” Hannibal said.

“No,” Will agreed. “But it will be.”

“I would like to examine it.”

Will shook his head. “Maybe when you’re feeling better. Right now, you’re going to eat.”

Hannibal tried to push himself up, but his arms felt weak. He rested his head back and sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s okay,” Will said. He set the bowl on the coffee table and walked to the edge of the couch. “Just take your time.”

Hannibal closed his eyes. He hated how weak he felt. He could handle the pain, but the blood loss was something his mind couldn’t overpower. He felt helpless. Vulnerable.

Will’s hand was on his shoulder a moment later. “I know you’re not used to this,” he whispered.

Hannibal focused on his breathing, letting the steady rhythm calm him.

“We both know eating will help you heal. It’s just going to take a bit of time.”

Hannibal nodded and opened his eyes. He looked at Will who was crouched down, their faces only inches apart. The younger man wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, but somehow Will’s words were comforting. He held the empath’s gaze until the latter looked away, smiling awkwardly.

Hannibal returned a gentle smile.

Will cleared his throat. “Ready to try this again?”

When he nodded, Will slid his arm beneath Hannibal’s upper back. As Hannibal worked to sit up, he tried to ignore the pain in his stomach and lower back. Will guided him the entire way, using both hands to help him up as well as hold him steady.

Hannibal let out a groan as both of his wounds throbbed. He repositioned so that he was mostly upright, leaning back into the corner of the couch.

“Hold on,” Will said, and Hannibal watched him retrieve a throw pillow from one of the chairs. He returned to Hannibal’s side, and Hannibal shifted just enough so that Will could work the pillow between Hannibal’s back and the couch.

Hannibal put a hand to the gunshot wound in his stomach. The movement reminded him of the moments after he had been shot. When he had lain on the floor against the piano. Will and the Dragon standing over him. The moments when he had been sure that the Dragon would kill him. That the Dragon would kill _both of them_. The moments when he had been more concerned for Will than himself.

“I was worried he’d kill you,” Hannibal said aloud.

Will looked at him again, his eyes darting back and forth, searching Hannibal’s. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Hannibal let his gaze fall. He took in a deep breath and then looked up again.

“He nearly did,” Will said. “He nearly killed both of us.”

“And then _you_ nearly killed both of us.”

“Yes,” Will whispered. They were both quiet for a few moments, and then Will added, “It seemed necessary at the time.”

“‘Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin,’” Hannibal quoted.

Will focused his eyes elsewhere, retrieving the bowl of soup from the coffee table. He sat beside Hannibal on the couch, ladled the spoon full of soup, and held it to Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal eyed Will. When the younger man said nothing, Hannibal took the spoon between his lips and swallowed the soup. It was as unsatisfying as he had expected.

Will stared into the bowl, getting another spoonful ready.

“And now?” Hannibal asked, determined to finish the conversation.

Will slowly swished the spoon back and forth in the bowl. Then, he looked up, meeting Hannibal’s gaze. “‘Atonement shall be made for you,’” he began. “‘To cleanse you. You will be clean from all your sins.’”

“A baptism by water,” Hannibal said, continuing with the Biblical metaphor.

Will fidgeted with the end of the spoon that rested in the bowl. His face contorted, landing somewhere between a cringe and a smile. “One could call it that.”

Hannibal nodded, satisfied. The conversation ended and they both sat in silence as Will offered spoonful after spoonful of the detestable soup. Hannibal consumed every bit of it, however, and thanked Will when he had finished.

Will set the bowl aside and helped Hannibal lie down again. The younger man took the dishes into the kitchen, and Hannibal stared up at the ceiling. Despite how exhausted he was, a part of him felt invigorated. He knew it had less to do with the food he had consumed and more to do with the conversation between the two of them. He took in a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his muscles as he exhaled.

Despite everything that had happened – despite their fugitive status and debilitating injuries – Hannibal felt content.


	5. Uncomplicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will ponders the complexities of his life before and after the fall as he offers assistance to a recovering Hannibal.

Will finished taking a shower the following morning. He stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel from the cabinet in the corner. His shoulder ached from the extra exertion, and he stepped over to the sink to examine it in the mirror.

He had been concerned about getting the stitches wet but was pleased to see that the shower head also converted into a handheld one. He had had much more control that way and managed to keep his healing injuries dry.

He eyed his shoulder in the mirror. The line of black stitches created a short island in a sea of mottled purple bruising. He looked up and saw that his cheek matched his shoulder perfectly. And he knew they matched Hannibal's gunshot wound as well.

Three days had passed since they had arrived at the cabin. Will had taken care of Hannibal and his wounds, urging him to eat and rest as much as possible. Will had moved the stolen SUV to the garage that was attached to the cabin, cleaned up the glass on the floor from the broken window on the front door, and had patched up the window with a square of plywood and nails he had found in the garage. It hadn’t been much work, but it had left him feeling rundown and had left his arm aching in a way he assumed was not good for its healing. He had tried to take it easy since then, ignoring the tingling sensation that had developed in his fingers.

Will finished drying himself off. Then, he grabbed the dark green, button-down shirt he had brought in before his shower. He slipped it on, finding it much easier to maneuver his shoulder into than the sweaters he had worn previously. He left it unbuttoned, however, wanting to allow his wound time to air out. He pulled on a pair of Hannibal's pants he had found in a drawer, noting the way they fit him well enough that he didn’t need a belt.

When he had finished getting dressed, he gathered up the dirty clothes and dropped them in the hamper. Then, he left the room.

When he entered the living room, he found Hannibal struggling to sit up on the couch.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Hannibal paused to look up at him. "I believe I am in need of a trip to the bathroom."

"All right," Will said, going to his side. "Why didn't you call for me?" He helped Hannibal sit up.

"I do not need assistance with everything."

Will snorted. "Sure you don't."

Hannibal narrowed his eyes.

Will smiled, the right side of his face pulling tight. "Don't give me that look. We both know this is only temporary. You'll be back on your own two steady feet in no time."

Hannibal grunted, and Will wasn't sure if it was in reply or if he was in pain.

Will helped him up. Hannibal wobbled and then leaned heavily against him. Will planted his feet, taking the extra weight with only a small struggle. Hannibal had never been a slight man in the time Will had known him, and he had filled out a bit more over the past three years. The time in prison had taken a toll on Hannibal’s body. Too little protein and too many carbs had left the doctor with a minor decrease in muscle mass and an evident softness to his belly. Hannibal wasn’t overweight by any means – and supporting him in that moment was nothing compared to what Will had encountered while dragging and carrying Hannibal’s sturdy body from the sea to the SUV to the cabin – but Will’s shoulder couldn’t take much more heavy lifting.

Will wrapped his good arm around Hannibal's back, careful to avoid his injury. He gripped a hold of Hannibal's upper arm with his other hand, saying, "Take your time." It took them a couple of minutes to reach the bathroom. Once inside, Will tentatively asked, "Do you need help?"

"No. Thank you, Will. I believe I can take it from here."

"Okay," Will said. He lingered a moment, hesitant to leave Hannibal alone.

Hannibal offered a gentle smile. "I will call for you if I need assistance."

Will nodded. "I'll be right outside."

"Wonderful."

Will left Hannibal leaning against the sink and exited the room. He pulled the door closed behind him and leaned against the wall, waiting for the doctor to finish.

A short time later, Hannibal's voice came from the other side of the door. "Will."

Will opened the door to find Hannibal seated on the closed toilet lid, a hand resting gingerly over the stitches in his stomach.

"Ready?" Will asked, walking to him.

"I would like to take a shower."

Will snorted.

Hannibal stared up at him.

Will shook his head. "Hannibal, you can't even stand on your own."

"Nevertheless."

Will furrowed his brow. "Wait. Are you suggesting I help you with that?"

The corners of Hannibal's mouth turned up. "Not at all."

"Great. Then, that will have to wait until another day."

"I am perfectly capable of bracing myself against the shower wall.”

Will shook his head. "Not right now, you're not. You could hardly stand, even when I was holding onto you."

Hannibal tilted his head as he seemed to consider Will's words. "Perhaps we can compromise."

Will cocked an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

A few minutes later they agreed that Hannibal could wash off as long as he remained seated. And in the meantime, Will would retrieve some clean clothes for Hannibal to wear.

Will went to the bedroom. Hannibal had given no instruction about what clothes to choose, and Will suddenly found himself unsure of where to begin. Hannibal was a man of refinement and exquisite taste. But he was also injured. His bandages still needed to be changed regularly, and Will didn't want to have to fight with a waistcoat every time he changed them. He opted for single layers and comfort.

He rummaged through the dresser. He bypassed the boxer shorts, instead pulling out a less intimate pair of gray plaid pajama pants. He set them on the bed and went to the closet. He thumbed through several button-down shirts but, assuming they wouldn't be very comfortable, moved on to the section of sweaters. He found a black one he thought looked soft and warm and plucked it out. He took the clothing and returned to the hallway outside of the bathroom, waiting for Hannibal to finish and hoping he would approve of the clothing choices.

The doctor hadn't been thrilled about the agreement, Will could tell, but he had gone along with it. Will had just hoped that Hannibal wouldn't go ahead and climb into the shower once Will left the room. It was a minor thing, but there had been enough deception between the two of them.

But twenty minutes had passed without the sound of the shower turning on, and Will was glad. A few moments later, Hannibal called to him again.

Will opened the door, finding the doctor standing in front of the sink. He had a towel wrapped around his lower half, and Will suddenly felt heat rise to his neck.

Hannibal was turned to the side, and Will could see that he had removed both bandages. Dark purplish-red bruises covered a large portion of his stomach and lower back. Will had seen the wounds numerous times over the past few days, but, nonetheless, he felt a twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"How did I do?" Will asked, nodding towards the stitches.

Hannibal turned to face him. "You did an impressive job."

"I wasn't sure I got them tight enough."

"The stitches could be a little tighter, yes, but you did wonderfully."

"Do you want me to bandage them again?"

"In a little while," Hannibal answered. "The wounds need to breathe."

Will nodded, staring at the line of stitches down Hannibal's belly. The last few days rushed through his mind -- the fight with the Dragon, the icy cold ocean water, trying to stop the bleeding. There had been so much uncertainty at the time, and Will suddenly felt exhausted all over again. He sighed softly.

"Is something wrong?"

Will shook his head. "Just flashbacks," he answered honestly.

"It is likely that you and I will experience many of those until we settle in."

"Settle in? We're staying here, then?"

"We will stay here for a while. Until we have both recovered, at least. However, what I was referring to was the idea of settling into our new lives. Our lives away from the ones we knew before."

Will nodded slowly. The life he knew before had been a complicated one – solving cases for a man who had had no regard for how those cases affected him; enduring a serious bout of encephalitis that his psychiatrist, and friend, had known about for God knows how long; feeling the push and pull of his relationship with Hannibal, debating whether to turn him in or run away with him; watching as Hannibal had slit the throat of one of the only people Will had ever truly cared about…

The complications went on and on. His life before had certainly been a tangled web of complexities and intricate manipulations.

The life he knew now should have been complicated as well. He had rescued the man who had tried to kill him. Who had tried to have his family killed. The man whom Dr. du Maurier had insisted was in love with him. And he was holed up in a cabin with him, discussing what their future held. Yet, somehow, his new life did not _feel_ complicated.

He found himself pondering Bedelia's words. The lack of doubt she had had about Hannibal's feelings towards him. Her question about his own feelings. Will hadn't answered her before, and he knew she hadn't meant for him to.

_Do you ache for him?_

It had been a question to carry with him. To live with and gauge as he and Hannibal spent more time together in their new life. Will wasn't sure how long it would take him to answer the question.

At least, to answer it aloud.

Will found himself stepping forward. He stared down at the wound in Hannibal's belly. He still had the doctor's clothes in one hand, and he placed his other on Hannibal's side, near the perimeter of the bruising.

He had rescued Hannibal. He had washed them both clean and then saved Hannibal's life. He had forced the reasoning from his mind, but he was sure that he knew why.

"You could have died," Will whispered.

"But I didn't," Hannibal said, his voice gentle and soothing. "Thanks to you."

Will looked up to see Hannibal staring down at him. The doctor hadn't leaned in or touched Will at all, but he hadn't pulled away either. Realizing for the first time the intimacy of their current state, Will felt his face grow warm.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, removing his hand from Hannibal's soft skin.

"I brought some clothes." He held them out, adding, "I hope they're all right."

Hannibal took them. "These will do just fine. Thank you, Will."

"Great," Will muttered. "I'll let you get dressed."

When Hannibal nodded once, Will exited, feeling the doctor’s eyes on him as he retreated from the room.


	6. No Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal attempts to put Will's mind at ease about their future.

Hannibal could still feel Will’s touch on his skin as the younger man exited the bathroom. He had wanted to step forward, to place a hand on Will as well. To see where their actions would lead them. But he hadn’t.

He told himself that he had simply not recovered enough to explore anything deeper within their relationship. But he knew that was only part of it.

Will was not ready. The faint blushing in his neck and cheeks and the gentle tremble in his voice had been enough to keep Hannibal from participating. He needed Will to be sure about what he was doing. He wanted, more than anything, to explore the new territory. To expand the relationship they had. To build on it and start anew in the way that Will had meant for them to when he had pulled them both off the edge of the cliff.

But it would take time. They had only spent a few nights in the cabin and neither had come close to recovering fully. Hannibal could wait.

However, his willingness to wait did not mean that he wouldn’t try to sway Will in his own way. Not in the deceptive manner in which the two of them had grown accustomed – _too_ accustomed – but a more playful one. One that he felt was rather harmless by comparison.

After he shakily pulled on the plaid pajama pants Will had brought for him – Hannibal hadn’t been at all surprised by the pattern choice – he opted to leave the sweater off for the time being. He had been honest with Will about wanting to allow his wounds to breathe. But he hoped the choice to forgo the sweater would have additional benefits. He smiled to himself, grabbing the sweater and going to the door.

As he stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway, Will let out a sigh. “You were supposed to call for me.” Will was at his side in an instant, wrapping an arm around him like he had earlier.

Hannibal was glad. Not only did he enjoy the contact, but he was still weak. He had stood for longer than his recovering body preferred, and he found his legs trying to give out before they had reached the couch.

Will grunted as Hannibal leaned on him even more.

“I apologize, Will.”

“No need,” he said between heavy breaths.

A few moments later, Hannibal contained a groan as Will helped him sit on the couch. He leaned back and put a hand to his stomach, feeling the wound throb beneath his palm.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

“Yes.”

Will watched him for a few moments, his brow furrowing deeply.

Hannibal forced a small smile.

Will sighed again. “And you wanted to take a shower.”

Hannibal chuckled softly. “Yes. I believe that desire was premature.”

“Doctors make the worst patients.”

“There is certainly truth to that.”

“I’ll make something to eat,” Will said, shaking his head.

Hannibal nodded. He had not grown used to their recent dietary staples, and he was certain he never would, but he had accepted it. Will had told him about his stop at the store after their escape. Hannibal knew he had not had much time to worry about food. In fact, he supposed that if it hadn’t been for the much-needed medical supplies, Will most likely would not have made a stop at all.

Hannibal draped his sweater over the arm of the couch. He rested his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for Will to return. He felt the warmth of the crackling fireplace against his face and torso, glad for the additional heat source.

Will returned a short time later with a bowl of mashed potatoes and a sports drink, insisting that Hannibal finish both of them. Hannibal simply nodded, knowing any kind of argument would not do his recovery any good.

When he had finished the potatoes and drink, Will set the dishware aside and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of Hannibal.

“How do your wounds feel?”

“They are healing,” Hannibal said. “In time, they will be nothing but faint reminders of distant memories.”

The corners of Will’s mouth turned up in a wry smile as he stared at Hannibal. He seemed to recognize that Hannibal’s answer had not been strictly about his physical wounds.

“I think, when we’re both up to it…” Will let his gaze fall as he trailed off.

Hannibal waited, watching the empath’s eyes dart back and forth somewhere around Hannibal’s knees.

“I believe it will be beneficial for us if we continue to be honest with one another,” Hannibal said, hoping to prod Will into finishing his thought.

Will nodded absently. After a few moments, he looked up again. “We need to have a discussion about what happened.”

Hannibal tilted his head.

“And about what’s happening now,” he said softly. “What _will_ happen.”

“What do you believe will happen?”

“I can’t say that I know.”

“What would you _like_ to have happen?”

Will stared at him for a few silent moments. Then, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “I would like to move on.”

“Then, move on we shall.”

“With no repercussions?”

“I would not say that we have been without repercussions.”

“No additional repercussions, then.”

Hannibal nodded once. The two of them had endured enough pain and turmoil over the past few days. Hannibal did not wish to add to that. And Will seemed eager to leave their past behind them. Since Will had rescued Hannibal from the sea and ultimately saved his life, he had felt, for the first time in his life, that he could fully trust Will. But he could see that Will was having trouble trusting him.

“Will, I have no desire to harm you in any way.”

“Having no desire to is not the same as promising not to.”

Hannibal took a deep breath and slowly leaned forward, gritting his teeth against the pain in his abdomen.

“What are you doing?” Will asked. His brow furrowed as he looked down at Hannibal’s midsection. “Stop.” Will’s hands were on Hannibal’s forearms a moment later, gripping tightly.

Hannibal gently twisted his arms free. He relaxed his facial muscles, feeling his expression soften. Then, he reached forward and brushed the backs of his fingers across Will’s cheek.

“Hannibal,” Will said gently. His eyes were still focused on Hannibal’s injury.

“Shh,” Hannibal urged. “Look at me.” He cupped Will’s cheek and brushed a thumb over his cheekbone.

Will’s brow was still furrowed as he met Hannibal’s gaze.

“I promise I will not hurt you, Will.”

Will’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his eyes darted back and forth, searching Hannibal’s. After a few moments, his gaze fell to Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal distinctly heard the sound of Will’s breathing as it picked up.

“But you need to be sure you can trust me,” Hannibal said.

Will met his eyes again.

“Take the night.” Hannibal let his hand fall from Will’s cheek. He swallowed a groan as he sat back again. “If you don’t feel you can trust me, you are at liberty to leave.”

Will furrowed his brow.

“I will not seek to find you again.”

Will sat still but let his gaze fall. His eyes glossed over and Hannibal waited for him to speak. After several seconds, Will blinked. He looked at Hannibal and shook his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Hannibal didn’t bother to contain his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the continued support! :D Comments & kudos are always more than welcome. XD ♥


	7. A Tolerable Amount

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Will tends to Hannibal's wounds, Hannibal playfully teases Will and then offers a serious proposal.

Will offered to make a second helping of potatoes for Hannibal, but he politely declined. He was sure his body could use the additional nourishment – a point Will had made as well – but he agreed to eat as much as Will wished for him to once he had had a bit of rest.

Will had reluctantly agreed, and Hannibal was about to lie down when Will spoke up.

“We need re-bandage your wounds.”

Hannibal nodded and rested his head back against the couch. His lack of energy was bothersome, but he wasn’t surprised by it. He watched Will whose eyes were south of Hannibal’s face.

“You know that I am perfectly capable of bandaging them myself.”

Will’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He met Hannibal’s eyes and offered an awkward smile before looking away. “You sure about that?”

Hannibal resisted the urge to smirk. Will had seen – and touched – Hannibal’s nearly naked body for days as he re-dressed Hannibal’s gunshot wounds. He hadn’t seemed at all bothered by any of those instances. Hannibal knew his current discomfort had everything to do with their encounter in the bathroom earlier that day.

Hannibal thought that he could reapply his own bandages if he had to, but he preferred Will to do it. Not because he was exhausted or feeling weak but because he enjoyed the intimacy of the situation.

“Perhaps I am not ready for that quite yet,” Hannibal said, his voice gentle and quiet.

Will nodded. “Well, I’m nearly a pro at it by now.”

“Yes, you are doing very well.”

Will smiled. Then, he got to his feet and retrieved the medical supplies he would need. When he returned, he took a seat on the couch beside Hannibal.

“I figured it would be easier to take care of…this one…before you lie down.”

Hannibal nodded once.

Will dropped his gaze to Hannibal’s stomach. Hannibal watched his eyes. He watched the way they zeroed in on the wound. The way Will’s facial muscles tightened, as though he were forcing himself not to let his eyes wander.

Hannibal smiled. “You seem uncomfortable, Will,” he said, pleased to feel some of his playfulness return.

Will cleared his throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Nervous, even.”

The corners of Will’s mouth turned up, and he appeared as though he were trying very hard not to smile. When a hint of pink crept into Will’s cheeks, Hannibal chuckled, ignoring the pain in his stomach and back.

“If you weren’t already injured…” Will began, shaking his head.

Hannibal smiled, enjoying the way Will blushed as he focused on Hannibal’s midsection.

Hannibal knew he had filled out over the past few years. Prison had not been as difficult for him as for most inmates. He had been afforded many luxuries, including several well-cooked meals per week that, while not created with his own hands, had sufficed quite nicely given his circumstances. But he had not been as active. He had remained in his cell almost exclusively for three years. The only workouts he had had were the sit-ups and push-ups he had done within the confines of his cell. And given his situation at the time, he had not found it necessary to stay quite as fit as he once had. He did not let his body go completely, but he had allowed himself to relax much more than when he had been free. And after three years, his body had grown softer, especially around the middle. But Hannibal had never been self-conscious. And given the heat in Will’s cheeks, the younger man didn’t seem to mind the little bit of extra weight Hannibal had put on.

Will touched Hannibal’s side with one hand, his fingers gentle and cool. He used the other to dab at the stitched wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.

“How’s the pain?” Will asked after a few moments.

“Tolerable.”

“Better than before? Or worse?”

“Better.”

Will nodded. “It doesn’t look infected. Your back either. At least, it didn’t this morning.”

“No. It doesn’t feel infected.” _Or smell infected_ , he thought. Will’s wounds either.

“That’s a relief.”

“How about your face and shoulder?” Hannibal asked. “How much pain are you in?”

“A tolerable amount,” he said, glancing up at Hannibal and smiling his newly crooked smile.

“Perhaps you would allow me to re-dress your wounds for you.”

“No,” Will said, shaking his head. “When I finish here, you need to get some rest. I will take care of my own wounds.”

Hannibal said nothing. Will had looked after both of them for the past few days while Hannibal had slept for the majority of it. “I am beginning to feel extraneous.”

“Not at all,” Will said in a matter-of-fact way. “You just need time to heal.”

When Will had finished cleaning and bandaging Hannibal's belly wound, he helped him lie down on his side. Hannibal faced the back of the couch while Will tended to the wound in his back. Hannibal was a bit disappointed that he could not watch Will work.

"It looks pretty good, considering," Will said.

"I believe we are past the point where we need to worry about infections. As long as we continue regularly cleaning the wounds and changing the bandages, we should be in the clear."

"Great."

They both fell quiet, and Hannibal focused on the way Will's hands felt against his skin. He used the one hand to tend to the wound, but the other was firmly planted against Hannibal's side, just clear of the injured area.

"I would still love to show you Italy, Will."

Will's hand stilled, the cotton ball pressed gently against Hannibal's stitches.

"Is that something you would be interested in?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"I hadn't given it much thought."

"I see."

Will said nothing more, and Hannibal debated rolling over to look at him.

A few moments later, Will continued tending to the wound. Then, his voice was gentle as he said, "But I will."

Hannibal smiled. "Wonderful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are amazing! :D ♥


	8. The Examination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal examines Will's injury and assesses the damage.

The two of them took it easy for the next two days. Will continued to help Hannibal as much as possible but before long, the doctor insisted on doing most things on his own. His wounds were healing nicely, but Will knew how much pain Hannibal was in. However, the doctor hid it well, never complaining or letting it show. Will wasn't at all surprised by that.

Will's face was healing well – he had removed the stitches that morning – but his entire arm and hand had felt off since the injury had occurred. Will thought it was due to the location of the injury but that it would heal naturally on its own. But after several days in the cabin, Hannibal insisted on examining Will's arm.

Will and Hannibal sat facing each other on the couch. Will had his shirt off and his shoulder wound un-bandaged. The area around the stitches was dark purple and blue, but Will could see a hint of green beginning to appear at the edges of the bruising. Hannibal seemed less concerned with the site of the injury, however.

He took both of Will's hands and the latter felt a twinge of butterflies in his stomach.

"I would like for you to squeeze my hands as tightly as you can," Hannibal said gently.

Will furrowed his brow but did as the doctor asked. He squeezed Hannibal's hands until the doctor offered a small smile and said, "Okay. Relax." When Will did, he asked, "Does that hurt your shoulder?"

"No."

Hannibal soothed his thumb over the back of Will's right hand. "Do you have any pain in your hand or fingers?"

Will shook his head. His entire arm had felt weak all along and he had experienced a bit of numbness in a couple of fingers, but he hadn't had any pain there.

Then, as though reading Will's mind, Hannibal asked, "How about numbness or tingling?"

Will swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "A little, yeah."

"Show me where."

Will gestured to the fingers that had been affected. "And my whole arm feels weak."

"I noticed that."

Will lifted an eyebrow.

"Your grip is very weak at the moment."

"Is that because it's healing?"

"The lack of pain when squeezing my hand indicates no."

"What does that mean?"

Hannibal lifted his gaze to meet Will's. Will swallowed thickly again.

"You may have a bit of nerve damage."

Will nodded slowly. He wasn't sure what that meant for his recovery, and he took a deep breath.

"It is very likely that it will heal on its own," Hannibal said.

Will noticed that the doctor was still caressing the back of his hand.

"And if it doesn't?"

Hannibal offered a small smile. "Let's just see how it does on its own."

"Hannibal."

"Yes, Will?"

"You are the one who suggested we continue being honest with one another."

"I have not been dishonest with you."

Will set his jaw, waiting for an answer.

Hannibal's features softened. "In rare, extreme cases surgery may be required."

Will felt his throat close up. It wasn't the prospect of surgery that alarmed him so much as the possibility that, if he did need surgery, he could very well be recognized during his stay in a hospital.

"You'd have to do it," Will whispered.

Hannibal tilted his head. Will thought he would argue, but instead he used his free hand to brush a lock of hair away from Will's forehead.

"That is not something either of us should worry about at the moment."

"So, what, we just wait and see if my arm's going to get any better? For how long?"

"We will monitor it over the next week or so to see how you are progressing."

Will took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and audibly.

"We will figure it out together."

Will furrowed his brow, staring down at Hannibal’s hand caressing his own. “It only took three years in prison and away from doctoring for your bedside manner to improve.”

Hannibal said nothing. Will looked up a few seconds later to see the doctor grinning.

“I feel as though I should be offended by that.”

Will smirked. “You probably should be.”

“You become very feisty when you are anxious.”

Will let his gaze fall again, but he didn’t bother arguing. He was very nervous and they both knew it. After a few moments, he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Hannibal tangled his free hand in Will’s hair over his ear. Then, he brought his hand down and cupped the side of Will’s face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek.

Will’s stomach tightened as his breathing picked up. He refused to look at the doctor.

After a few moments, Hannibal said, “I would like for you to refrain from using your arm as much as possible over the next couple of weeks.”

“Okay,” Will whispered.

A moment later, Hannibal let go of Will’s hand and stopped caressing his cheek. Will swallowed thickly, finding himself suddenly missing the contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued love & support! :D ♥♥♥


	9. Doctor's Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has trouble adhering to the "doctor's orders" that Hannibal set forth.

The two of them spent the next half week recovering.

Hannibal had begun to move around more like normal and had fashioned a sling for Will. He had insisted that Will use his arm as little as possible – and preferably not at all, if he could help it. Will had wanted to listen. He had wanted to follow the doctor’s orders, but he had found it difficult.

Hannibal hadn’t fully recovered himself, and Will had gotten used to doing things for both of them. Hannibal had given him admonishing looks as Will made food for them or admitted to using his arm while showering. But it wasn’t until Will came in from collecting firewood that Hannibal truly let him have it. At least, in his own Hannibal way.

“Will, I was under the impression that you wanted your shoulder to heal properly.”

“I do,” Will said, using his left arm to lay a log on the fire.

“Then, why do you insist on going against my orders?”

“Your orders.” Will smirked. “Am I supposed to obey you now?”

“They are called ‘doctor’s orders’ for a reason, dear Will.”

“We needed firewood.”

“As much as you need your arm to heal?”

Will sighed, feeling properly chastised. He left the remainder of the firewood next to the fireplace, not bothering to stack it up. If he decided to do so, he’d wait until Hannibal was out of eyesight. Instead, he went to the recliner he had slept in each night they had been in the cabin and sat down.

“I understand it must be difficult,” Hannibal said. “Not to have as much control as you are used to.”

Will snorted. “I suppose you should know.”

Hannibal offered a small smile. “Yes. It has been an adjustment for me as well. However, if we are to heal properly, we need only do the things that are good for us.”

Will sighed. Hannibal was right.

“As you have said to me, you will be back on your feet in no time.”

“But one of us has to be on his feet. And you are in no condition—”

“I am not the one with nerve damage.”

Will let out a heavy sigh. “No. Just the one with a hole all the way through his torso.”

“A hole that is healing rather nicely, thanks to you.”

Images of tending to Hannibal’s wounds after arriving at the cabin flashed through Will’s mind. “But it’s not healed yet, and you are still in pain. You don’t need to be doing everything.”

“Will, I have hardly done anything for us since our arrival here. Besides, I am not asking you to stop helping. I am asking you to take it a little easier and allow your arm time to heal.”

Will sighed again. “I will try.”

Hannibal offered a small smile and nodded once. “In the meantime, I have grown a bit stir-crazy.”

Will smirked. “You and me both.”

“I am confident that a short walk outside would not be detrimental to either one of our recoveries.”

Will furrowed his brow and looked Hannibal over. “Are you sure you feel up to that?”

“I am feeling much better.”

“But are you sure? I mean, it really wasn’t that long ago that you couldn’t even go to the bathroom without leaning on me.”

“I had lost a lot of blood and hadn’t eaten in days. You know very well that I have been eating regularly since then.”

“True, but—”

“Will, I would appreciate it if you didn’t fight me on this. After all,” he added with a playful grin, “which one of us is the doctor here?”

Will smirked. “Fine. All right. But I’m going with you.”

“Even better.” Hannibal smiled. “I am sure you and I could both use the fresh air and exercise.”

Will smiled. The thought of getting out of the cabin for a while did appeal to him. He had been able to do so a little more often since they had arrived at the cabin, but he had never wanted to stay away for too long, in case Hannibal needed him. It would be nice to go for a walk _with_ Hannibal for a change.

“Do you want to go get dressed?” Will asked. “It’s a bit chilly out.”

“I will do that. And you, dear Will, need to put your sling back on.”

“Yes, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal smiled and got to his feet, letting out a very quiet moan.

Will sat forward and watched over his shoulder as the doctor sauntered down the hallway and disappeared into the bedroom. His gait had improved – he didn’t seem to be struggling to walk any longer. Will knew Hannibal was still in pain, but the doctor seemed to think it was manageable. And Will let him manage it.

Will got up and retrieved his sling from the arm of the couch. He still wore his coat – or, more accurately, one of Hannibal’s that he had found in the closet – and he pulled the sling on over it, adjusting it until it was comfortable.

A few minutes later, Hannibal returned to the room wearing a dark gray sweater and a pair of black pants, a black coat draped over his arm. His hair was neater, and Will thought he caught a hint of a sweet, spicy aftershave wafting off the doctor. Not that the doctor had shaved at all since they had arrived at the cabin. It was a look that Will knew he could get used to. In fact, if he were being truly honest, it was a look Will had already grown fond of.

“Ready to go?” Will asked.

“I am.” He glanced at Will’s sling and smiled. Then, he worked his coat on, letting out one small groan as he did so.

Will frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. The pain is normal.”

Will sighed. “If you say so.”

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked as he buttoned his coat.

Will nodded and then turned for the door. He pulled it open and waved a hand for Hannibal to go first.

Hannibal smiled and exited the cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the continued love & support on this story! :D ♥


	10. A Walk in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal & Will go for a walk that leads to further developments in their attempt to start anew.

It was mid-evening as Hannibal and Will left the cabin. The surrounding field and trees in the distance were cast in a golden light as the sky had begun to turn various shades of pink and orange.

The two of them walked together over the field of brown grass. Hannibal moved slowly, and Will kept close to his right side, gently gripping his upper arm every once in a while in order to stabilize him. Hannibal felt plenty stable. His wounds had begun to heal nicely and, despite the unsurprising pain in his back and stomach, he had started to feel more like himself again. But Will was concerned about him, and Hannibal knew it wouldn’t hurt a thing to allow Will to guide him as the younger man saw fit.

“Still doing okay?” Will asked as they neared the tree line. It was the third time Will had asked a similar question since leaving the cabin.

Hannibal smiled. “Yes.”

“Okay. You’ll let me know if you want to go back, right?”

“I will.”

They entered the tree line and Will gently gripped Hannibal’s bicep once again. They walked slowly over fallen leaves and sticks and undergrowth. They had been taking it easy the whole time and it wasn’t until the ground began to incline ever so slightly that Hannibal began to feel it. He stopped walking.

Will stopped beside him, turning to look at him “Are you okay?”

“I don’t think I realized just how out of shape I am.”

“You’ve been on the couch for a week and a half.”

Hannibal nodded. “The lack of movement has left my muscles weak.”

“Let’s go back.” Will tugged gently at Hannibal’s bicep.

“No.”

“Hannibal—”

“I simply need to avoid going uphill.”

Will glanced to the side, looking farther into the trees where the ground inclined gently. “Okay. Where do you want to go, then?”

Hannibal led them back out of the trees and into the field. They crossed the field at a slow pace and entered the tree line again at a different location – one where Hannibal knew the ground didn’t incline.

Despite the even ground, Hannibal’s legs had begun to burn. He was not pleased with his current state, but he knew it was normal. He had suffered a traumatic injury that had left him weak and immobile. As he had recovered, he had allowed Will to do most things for him and help him with the rest. Hannibal had had no exercise since arriving at the cabin. In fact, he had had hardly any movement at all; therefore, his quickly fatiguing muscles were of no surprise to him. But he knew he needed to make a change.

“I believe it will be beneficial for me to go for walks on a regular basis.”

“How ‘regular’ are we talking here?”

“Two or three short walks throughout the day.”

Will frowned. “Are you sure about that? You seem to be struggling with just the one walk.”

“That is precisely why I need to begin moving more. My body needs the exercise.”

“Okay,” Will said. “But I’ll be joining you.”

“Fair enough.”

“To _supervise_ ,” Will added with a smirk.

Hannibal smiled. “You have supervised very well for the past week and a half. Why stop now?”

Will nodded. “It would do you no good to argue anyway.”

“I suspect it wouldn’t.”

Will smiled. The two of them walked together for several more minutes before Will grabbed Hannibal’s arm again and steered him back towards the tree line.

“Leading me home?” Hannibal asked as the edge of the tree line came into view.

“Yes.” Will paused. “Or at least to sit down.”

Hannibal looked up ahead at a felled tree at the edge of the field. It had fallen at such an angle that it was directly up against two other large trees.

Will led him to the tree and said, “Sit.”

Hannibal opted not to argue and lowered himself onto the tree. He let a small moan escape his lips and immediately regretted it as Will’s eyes darted to him, his brow furrowed.

“I’m all right,” Hannibal assured him. He leaned back against one of the other trees and put a hand to his stomach.

Will lingered nearby, standing in front of Hannibal and watching him closely.

Hannibal smiled up at him. “Have a seat, Will.”

Will hesitated but then sat down on the tree beside him. Hannibal looked towards the cabin in the distance. There were more dense trees on the other side of it and the sun was just above them. When he turned back to Will, the younger man was staring at him. Hannibal smiled, but Will did not.

“What’s wrong?” Hannibal asked.

“I want you to promise me something,” Will whispered.

Hannibal lifted his eyebrows in question.

“I want you to promise me that you won’t hurt Alana.”

Hannibal tilted his head.

“I know about your promise to her.”

Hannibal said nothing. Instead, he thought back to the moment in his kitchen when Alana had decided to be brave. The same moment when Hannibal had decided that she had to die. Because of the time he had spent overseas and the even longer time he had spent in prison, Hannibal hadn’t yet had an opportunity to make good on his promise to her.

“You agreed that you wanted to move on, right?” Will asked.

“Yes.”

“Part of that is letting go of…old debts.”

“One more thing that has been washed away by the sea.”

“Exactly.”

Hannibal nodded.

After a few moments, Will said, “You haven’t promised me.”

“I promise, Will.”

Hannibal had expected him to smile or let out a relieved sigh, but Will did neither. Instead, he furrowed his brow as he stared at Hannibal and asked, “Honestly?”

“You and I have started anew. Our life now is not the same as our life before the fall and because of that, I can forgive Alana her transgressions. However, I will still keep my promises in our new life together. And I promise you I will not hurt Alana.”

“Or her family.”

“Doing so would hurt Alana.”

“Yes.”

“I will not hurt any of them, Will, even if that chance were to present itself.”

And there it was. Will smiled. Hannibal detected a hint of doubt behind his eyes, but he couldn’t blame Will for that. Over time, Will would trust his word and realize that Hannibal had every intention to remain honest.

“Thank you,” Will whispered.

Then, he reached out and took Hannibal’s hand. Hannibal let him, curious to see where it would lead. Will took in a deep breath and then moved closer to him on the tree. Hannibal watched Will’s face which was less than a foot from his own. Will’s lips were parted, and he swallowed thickly, staring at Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal didn’t bother containing his smile. Instead, he squeezed Will’s hand and inclined his head so that their faces were mere inches apart. Will wet his lips, and Hannibal restrained his desire to kiss the younger man. He waited for Will to come to him.

And come to him, Will did.

Sitting so closely, Hannibal could hear every ragged breath Will took. Hannibal waited patiently as Will inched closer and closer. Then, when they were only a couple inches apart, Hannibal smiled again. And Will closed the gap between them.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal brought his free hand up and cupped the back of Will’s head. Will feathered his lips across Hannibal’s, and Hannibal worked to match Will’s chaste touch.

Hannibal wanted nothing more than to kiss Will fully, but it was important for Will to set their pace. After a few moments of feathery kisses, Will pulled back.

Hannibal smiled, but Will averted his eyes and stared downward, panting quietly. Hannibal brushed gentle fingers through Will’s hair. In an attempt to alleviate Will’s nerves, Hannibal decided to change the subject.

“Would you care to watch the sun set?”

Will lifted his gaze to meet Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal removed his hand from Will’s hair and smiled. Will let out a small puff of air that resembled a quiet laugh. Then, he nodded and shifted on the tree.

Hannibal shifted as well, leaning back against the upright tree. His stomach ached. His back throbbed. But what he felt more than either of those things was the lingering sensation of Will’s lips on his own.

Hannibal smiled to himself as he watched the sun make its descent behind the trees in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I'm glad to finally have this chapter posted for you all! :D I hope you enjoy it! ♥♥♥
> 
> More to come!


	11. New Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal requests Will's help, and the two share an intimate moment.

Will felt uncomfortable around Hannibal, and in general, for the next few days. They had had no more physical contact – at least, nothing that could be misconstrued as _intimate_ – since the kiss in the woods. And they hadn’t discussed it. Will couldn’t figure out why.

As far as Will was concerned, the ball was in Hannibal’s court. Will had made the first move, and he had fully expected the doctor to continue with their newfound intimacy. But he hadn’t. Will wasn’t sure why, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask Hannibal. And each time they had a conversation that didn’t include discussion of the kiss, Will became increasingly uncertain of what had happened in the woods.

He knew they had kissed. He knew he, himself, had _wanted_ to kiss Hannibal. But beyond that, he was no longer sure of anything. Hannibal had kissed him back, but Will began to wonder if it had simply been a courtesy so as not to cause Will to feel rejected. Hannibal hadn’t deepened the kiss, after all. He had only kissed Will gently, never initiating any other contact, besides his hand in Will’s hair.

The longer he avoided bringing up the kiss, the more awkward he felt and the more difficult it became. After the kiss, they had watched the sunset and then returned to the house. Hannibal had allowed Will to build a fire – using only his left arm – and they had settled in for the night. Will made them both dinner and afterwards, Hannibal had gone to sleep quickly. Will had assumed that he was worn out from the walk, and he thought they could talk about it the next day.

But they hadn’t. Nor the day after that. And after three days of not discussing it, Will decided he’d just wait until Hannibal was ready. And if the doctor never brought it up or initiated any further contact, well, Will would just have to live with that. However, after four days of silence on the matter, Will was pushed into bringing it up.

When Will awoke in the chair, he noticed that Hannibal was not on the couch. He got up, wondering if the doctor had gone for a walk without him. He decided to check the cabin first and went to the bedroom. Not finding him in there, he walked to the closed bathroom door and knocked lightly.

“Hannibal?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“I am.”

Will let out a relieved sigh and was about to return to the living room when he heard the door click open. He turned to face Hannibal who stood shirtless on the other side of the threshold. Will tried not to stare.

“These stitches have been in longer than necessary. They need to be removed.”

“Oh,” Will uttered, noticing the open first-aid kit on the sink top and the tweezers in Hannibal’s hand. He re-focused his gaze to Hannibal’s stomach. There was still bruising around the gunshot wound, but where the stitches had been, there was now a thick, pink scar. “You did it yourself?”

“I was able to reach these just fine. My back, however…”

Will nodded slowly. “You need me to do it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Will frowned, still staring at Hannibal’s stomach. He felt his face grow warmer, and he found himself wanting to put his hands on Hannibal’s midsection for reasons other than simply removing his stitches.

“I don’t know,” Will muttered.

Hannibal tilted his head, looking at Will with curious eyes. “You have been so eager to help until now.”

Will said nothing.

“Will.”

Will sighed and looked up at him. “What?”

“What’s the matter?”

“You are perfectly capable of removing your own stitches.”

“Yes. The ones that I can reach.”

“It might be a bit awkward, but I’m sure you can reach them.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, his voice low and deep. “What’s going on?”

“Why haven’t we discussed the other night?”

Hannibal exhaled softly and set the tweezers next to the first-aid kit. “I was allowing you some time.”

“Some time for what?”

“To think about it. I assumed you would come to me when you were ready.”

“I did.”

“Yes.”

“In the woods, I mean. We—what we did…”

A small smile played on Hannibal’s lips. “And then you stopped it abruptly.”

Will looked away. “I have no idea what the hell we’re doing.”

“You and I are exploring new territory.”

“It would be a hell of a lot easier if I knew what you wanted.”

“Dear Will,” Hannibal began. “I do not believe that that is a mystery to you.”

Will looked up at him again, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He exhaled heavily and then whispered, “Doctor du Maurier had some insights about that.”

Hannibal tilted his head. “And what did the good doctor have to say?”

“She seems to think that you are…in love with me.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think I would rather hear the truth from you.”

Hannibal smiled gently. “Will, you have been aware for a while how I feel about you.”

“That…is not the same as telling me how you feel.”

“I have always gravitated more towards the notion of showing, not telling.”

“Then _show_ me how you feel.”

Hannibal nodded once, and Will thought he detected hesitation in the doctor. Will wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but then Hannibal took a step forward. He reached out and cupped Will’s cheek. Will let his eyes fall closed at the touch, letting out a soft sigh. Hannibal brushed his thumb over Will’s cheekbone. Several moments later, Will opened his eyes, and Hannibal leaned in, pressing his lips to Will’s.

Will returned the kiss and then found his hands on Hannibal’s waist. He kept his left hand still, careful not to aggravate Hannibal’s wounds. But he squeezed with his right hand, the soft layer of skin on Hannibal’s waist unable to obscure his solid, muscular core beneath. 

Hannibal broke the kiss, and Will found himself panting quietly. He took a few deep breaths and then looked up at Hannibal who smiled.

“Was that evidence enough of my feelings for you, dear Will?”

Will blinked rapidly, trying to rein in his thoughts. He nodded.

“Now that we have cleared up that matter, would you be so kind as to remove the remainder of my sutures?”

“Sure,” Will breathed in a whisper, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the maelstrom of thoughts swirling through his head.

They both moved to the edge of the sink. Will noticed the small scissors and the uncapped bottle of alcohol beside the first aid kit. Will assumed Hannibal had already sterilized the equipment before removing the stitches in front. But since the scissors and tweezers had been laid on the sink since then, they thought it a good idea to re-sterilize the items.

Once Will was finished with the scissors, Hannibal asked, "Would you like to do this in the living room? My lying down may make this easier for you."

"I'm fine doing it here if you are."

"Yes" was all he said.

"I may need you to turn a bit so you're in the light more."

When Hannibal agreed, Will guided him until the lights brightly illuminated Hannibal's lower back. Will set to work removing the stitches.

"Okay, hold still," Will said.

"I'm ready."

Will carefully snipped each suture with the tiny scissors until they were all loose. "Okay, that part's finished." He set the scissors down and picked up the tweezers. He sterilized them and turned back to Hannibal. He took hold of each severed stitch by its end and gently pulled it free. A couple of them were a little more difficult to remove, and they tugged at Hannibal's skin.

"Sorry," Will whispered, imagining that that couldn't have been very comfortable.

"That's quite all right, Will," Hannibal said, never even flinching.

Will finished removing Hannibal’s stiches and they cleaned up, tucking everything back into the first aid kit and putting it away.

Hannibal turned to look at him and Will stared at anything but Hannibal.

“It seems as though something is bothering you, Will.”

“Not _bothering_ me, necessarily.”

“Preoccupying you.”

Will tried to offer a smile, but it felt awkward and forced. He nodded.

“Perhaps you need a little more time to adjust to the idea of exploring new territory with me.”

“I don’t think that I can jump right into anything with you.”

“That is understandable. You and I have been intimate for a long time but never in this way.”

Will looked up at him, slightly furrowing his brow. He hadn’t thought about it that way. Of course he knew they had been intimate in a non-sexual way, but expressing their physical feelings for one another was new. It was the only aspect of human connection they had not broached, and despite how much Will had enjoyed their two kisses, he found himself struggling with the newfound lack of mystery between them.

“We can continue on as we always have, if you would prefer.”

Will thought it over, his eyes landing, unfocused, on Hannibal’s torso. He wasn’t entirely sure that’s what he wanted. In fact, he was certain that he wanted the opposite. He shook his head.

“Then, we will ease into it slowly. A toe in the shallow end of the pool.” Hannibal tilted his head, a smirk on his lips. “No more free-falling into the vast ocean.”

Will smiled and it felt more natural that time, despite the gentle pull of scar tissue in his cheek.

Hannibal took a small step forward and then reached out, cupping Will’s uninjured cheek. “There is no sense rushing into anything, dear Will. We have all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are the best. Thanks for the ever-continuing kudos & comments & general love & support. :D ♥


	12. Discourage Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal & Will come up with a new sleeping arrangement.

The two of them had had a surprisingly filling dinner of potatoes and rice later that evening. Their supply was running low, and Hannibal knew they would either have to get more food soon or move on to a new location. He didn’t want to risk either of them being seen in public, so he assumed the latter would be in order. He hadn’t yet brought up that idea to Will.

But Will had been insistent that Hannibal eat as much as possible for the past couple of weeks. The doctor had wanted to conserve their supply so they would have enough while they healed, but he knew he had also needed the sustenance in order to increase his strength and health. And he had insisted that Will do the same.

They had both complied, eating more than enough. They were lounging in the living room in front of the crackling fireplace when Will spoke.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping in your bed?” Will asked.

“I have gotten used to the couch. Besides, you are the one confined to a recliner. If either of us should sleep in the bed, it should be you.”

“I disagree. You could take the bed, and I could move to the couch.”

Hannibal tilted his head. “Your arm is in worse shape than my gunshot wound.”

“It’s feeling better.”

“How is the numbness and tingling?”

“Better. Actually, I haven’t felt any numbness or tingling in a few days.”

“I am pleased to hear this, Will.”

Will nodded. “Right. So, you take the bed. I’ll move to the couch.”

Hannibal smiled gently. He thought over his next words carefully. Gently, he asked, “What would you think of us both relocating to the bed?”

Will looked at him but then let his eyes wander away. His brow furrowed and his features contorted in the way they always did when he was carefully considering an idea he wasn’t certain about.

Hannibal waited patiently.

After a few moments, Will said, “Hannibal, even if we were up for it mentally, I don’t think either one of us is in a state to...”

Hannibal chuckled softly. “I am simply proposing that we sleep in the same bed, Will. Nothing more.”

Will exhaled audibly.

“We could build a pillow buffer if that would make you more comfortable.”

Will laughed softly. “I’m not sure that will be necessary.”

“‘Will be,’” Hannibal repeated. “Does that mean you are accepting my proposal?”

Will offered a small smile and then looked at Hannibal, not meeting his gaze. Will nodded.

Hannibal returned the smile. “I am confident you will be much more comfortable in bed.”

“Physically, maybe.”

“Will, I have no intention of making you feel uncomfortable in any way.”

“No. I suspect my discomfort will have little to do with your intentions.”

“Perhaps we will try it for a night,” Hannibal offered. “If you are too uncomfortable to continue, we will alter our sleeping arrangements once again.”

“Fair enough.”

Hannibal nodded, smiling.

The two of them remained in the living room and talked for a while longer. Hannibal felt himself growing sleepy, but it wasn’t until Will’s eyelids started to droop that Hannibal decided to say something.

“Perhaps it is time for us to get some rest.”

Will nodded. “You go first. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Hannibal tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal hesitated, uncertain if Will really intended to follow him to the bedroom. But Hannibal didn’t argue. If Will felt uneasy sleeping next to him, Hannibal wouldn’t force him to do so. He simply wanted Will to be comfortable.

Hannibal got to his feet and walked down the hall to the bedroom. Once inside, he began to change his clothes. After Will had finished removing his sutures that morning, he had gotten dressed and gone for a short walk. He had taken a couple more walks with Will throughout the day, so he hadn’t found it practical to change clothes again until he was ready to go to bed. He removed his sweater, dropping it into the hamper beside his dresser. He had already removed his shoes earlier in the day so he moved onto his pants, feeling some pain in his back and stomach as he worked them off. He switched out his boxers for a pair of red plaid pajama pants, and then he walked to the edge of the bed where he sat down. He carefully maneuvered his socks off, but he could still feel his healing injuries pulling with the motion. When he had finished, he tossed the socks on the floor, not bothering to get up again to throw them in the hamper.

Hannibal repositioned, sitting at the head of the bed and leaning back against the headboard. He waited for Will to join him, but several minutes passed with no sign of the younger man. Hannibal thought about getting up to check on him, but he didn’t want to pressure Will into coming to bed if he really didn’t want to. They would get there eventually, but that aspect of their relationship was still new, and Hannibal reminded himself to be patient.

He had decided to let it go and was about to lie down when he heard a light knock at the door.

“Come in, Will.”

“Are you…decent?”

Hannibal smiled to himself, wondering in what kind of state Will expected to find him – and suddenly realizing why Will had allowed Hannibal to go to the bedroom first. “I am.”

The door opened a moment later but slowly crept inward.

“I assure you I am dressed.”

Will opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside. Hannibal looked him over. Will was barefoot but still wore his – technically, Hannibal’s – button-down shirt and a pair of trousers that fit him surprisingly well. Hannibal smirked, knowing Will would have to change clothes in front of him. He wondered if Will had thought of that when he had made sure to avoid being in the room when Hannibal undressed.

Will glanced at him. His eyes focused for a moment on Hannibal’s bare torso but flitted away just as quickly.

Hannibal smiled. “Would you like me to leave the room to give you some privacy?”

Will shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“You seem very nervous.”

Will let out a puff of air that sounded like a quiet laugh. “I am.”

“You do not need to be nervous with me.” Hannibal paused. “Or _because of_ me.”

Will took in a deep breath. He exhaled slowly, meeting Hannibal’s gaze for the first time since entering the room. But he made no move to begin changing clothes.

Hannibal offered a small smile and then slid beneath the blanket, relaxing on his back with both hands tucked behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling, opting to give Will as much privacy as he could. A few moments later, he heard the distinct rustle of clothing. He resisted the urge to peek at Will, instead closing his eyes to further discourage temptation.

The rustling stopped a short time later, and then the bed moved gently. Hannibal opened his eyes and turned his head to see Will crawling into bed beside him. He wore a pair of Hannibal’s pajama pants – the ones he had worn most nights since their arrival at the cabin – but he was shirtless. As he situated himself in bed, Hannibal caught glimpse of the scars that flecked Will’s body, a couple of which Hannibal had inflicted himself.

Will settled down beside him on his back and pulled the blanket up to his chest. He stared up at the ceiling with his hands resting on his covered stomach.

“Are you sure you would not prefer a pillow buffer?”

Will smiled and looked at him. “I’m okay for now.”

Hannibal returned the smile. “Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight, Hannibal,” Will whispered.

Hannibal shifted until he was comfortable, remaining on his back. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Will’s soft, rhythmic breathing beside him.

It wasn’t until hours later that Hannibal was roused from his sleep when he felt a dull pain after being struck in the shin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are slowly getting more intimate! XD
> 
> As always, thanks for reading & commenting & generally being fantastic people! :D ♥


	13. A Different Sort of Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal awakens to Will having a nightmare.

Hannibal’s eyes flew open at the discomfort in his leg. For a split second, he thought he may have to go on the offensive, until he realized what had caused the pain.

Will was still in bed beside him. He tossed and turned, limbs flailing. The blanket had been pushed – most likely kicked, Hannibal thought, given the pain in his shin – to the foot of the bed, and Will was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Hannibal rolled onto his left side to face the younger man. “Will,” he cooed, reaching over and gently wrapping his fingers around Will’s forearm.

But Will didn’t wake. He continued to toss and turn, and Hannibal found himself worrying about Will’s injured arm.

Hannibal raised his voice and repeated, “Will.”

Will thrashed a moment longer and then stopped. His eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright in bed. Hannibal sat up beside him, placing a hand on his damp, bare back.

“You’re all right,” Hannibal assured him, ignoring his own pain.

Will panted, turning his head to look at Hannibal. His eyes were wide and feral as though he didn’t recognize him.

“Will, do you know where you are?”

Will took in a deep, shaky breath. He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Good. Keep taking deep breaths.”

Will did as instructed, and after a minute or two, he lay back on the bed again. He scrubbed his palms over his face as Hannibal lay down on his side next to him.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Will had ceased panting, but his breathing remained heavier than normal. He let his arms fall to the bed at his sides.

“We were on the cliff,” he began in a whisper.

Hannibal nodded slowly. He reached over and brushed Will’s damp hair back from his forehead where it had matted against his skin.

“What happened?”

“We…” He paused and let out a sigh. Then, still in a whisper, he said, “We went over.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he turned his head to look at Hannibal. “You didn’t make it.”

Hannibal’s stomach tightened at that. Not at the idea that he had died in Will’s dream but rather at the look in Will’s eyes. It was dark in the room, with just a hint of light coming through the open bedroom door, but Hannibal was sure he saw the glint of tears in Will’s eyes.

“I’m okay,” Hannibal said, trying to comfort him. “It was only a dream.”

“I could have killed you,” Will whispered.

“But you didn’t.”

“We’ve done so many horrible things to one another.”

“Things which we have both agreed to stop doing,” Hannibal reminded him.

Will drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“It is normal to have nightmares,” Hannibal assured.

“I know,” Will whispered.

Hannibal continued to brush Will’s hair back away from his forehead. It was damp from sweat, but the thick, unruly curls felt nice between his fingers.

“I am inclined to believe that this particular nightmare was not about your distrust of me.” He paused. “Nor the repulsion of things that we have done.”

Will wet his lips, staring up at the ceiling. “No,” he whispered.

“Tell me more about this dream. How did it feel?”

“It felt as though I were flailing desperately in the shadowy corners of someone else’s mind.”

“‘Someone else’s mind,’” Hannibal repeated. “As though you had no control over your own thoughts or actions.”

“Yes.”

“Is that how you felt on the cliff top?”

Will hesitated and then quietly said, “No.” He turned his head to look at Hannibal. “I felt very much in control on the cliff top. At least, when it came to my actions.”

“What did you feel you could not control?”

It was dark in the room, but Hannibal’s eyes had adjusted well, and he was certain that Will glanced at his lips at that question.

“You and I are no longer attempting to deceive one another, correct?”

Will nodded.

“Then, there is no harm in being absolutely honest with me.”

Will exhaled quietly. “My mind swam with possibilities.”

“Possibilities of what?”

“Us,” he whispered. “What killing the Dragon would do to us.” He smiled his awkward, pained smile. “Or _for_ us.”

“And what do you believe was done for us?”

“Slaying the Dragon was liberating.”

Hannibal nodded.

“I liked killing him, and…” Will let out a small puff of air. “I liked killing him _with you_.”

“But you were not entirely sure that that person on the cliff was who you wanted to become.”

Will nodded.

“And so you acted accordingly.”

“I wanted to wash away the stain I had begun to feel inside of me.”

“And so you did.”

Will nodded again.

“You are no longer the person you were atop that cliff.” Hannibal played with a lock of Will’s hair. “Nor am I.”

“I know.”

“And perhaps that is why you feel such fear at the prospect of my death.”

Will looked at him again.

Hannibal continued to weave his fingers through Will’s hair.

After several moments, Will asked, “Is that how you feel about me?”

Hannibal offered a gentle smile that he knew Will could see, even in the dimness of the room. “Yes.”

Will took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly and audibly. Then, a small smile crept across his face.

“Close your eyes, Will,” Hannibal whispered.

“Why?” Will asked at normal volume, but he closed them, nonetheless. “What are you going to do?”

Hannibal let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t plan to do anything. But you need more sleep.”

Will hummed deep in his throat.

Hannibal watched him closely, continuing to play with his hair. After a few moments, he lifted his free hand and gently placed it on Will’s bare stomach. He watched Will, but the younger man didn’t move to stop him. Hannibal focused his attention on Will’s abdomen – particularly the long scar across his belly that appeared black in the dimness of the room. Hannibal ran his palm over the length of it.

“Right,” Will murmured. “You weren’t planning to do anything.”

Hannibal smiled, looking at the younger man’s face. “It was not a plan.”

Will’s eyes opened. 

Hannibal leaned close, pressing his lips to Will’s. Will returned the kiss, and then Hannibal pulled back.

He whispered, “May your sleep be more restful this time around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! As always, feel free to leave comments!!! :D ♥


	14. Prospects of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a comfortable breakfast together, Will is nervous when Hannibal insists on examining his arm to gauge the progress of his recovery.

Will awoke the next morning, feeling more rested and refreshed than he remembered having felt in a long time. Long before the Dragon. During the days back in the cabin in the woods with Molly, Walter, and his pack of dogs. Those days felt like a lifetime ago, like a vivid dream that felt good but that he no longer yearned for as he went about his day.

He opened his eyes and turned to look at the spot where Hannibal had been the night before. The doctor was gone, and his side of the bed had been made as well as possible given the fact that Will was still using half of the blankets.

Despite the nightmare Will had had early in the night, the remainder of his sleep had been restful. He didn’t remember anything he dreamt, but as he lay on his back, staring at the place where Hannibal had slept beside him, he felt at peace for the first time since he and Hannibal had fallen off the edge of the cliff.

Will threw the blanket back and sat up. The bedroom door was closed but he could smell the distinct scent of soup, wafting in through the cracks around the door. Hannibal must have been cooking. Will got to his feet and left the bedroom, walking down the hall and into the bathroom. When he had finished with his morning routine, he padded out into the living room, not bothering to stop by the bedroom to put on more clothes. He made his way into the kitchen, where he found Hannibal cooking their soup on the stovetop, a wooden spoon in hand.

But even more surprising than that was the sight of the doctor fully clad in a three-piece suit, sans jacket. He wore a rust-orange dress shirt and a pair of chocolate brown pants with a dark beige plaid pattern and a waistcoat to match. A waistcoat that looked to be nearly a size too small for him.

Not that it looked bad. It didn’t. In fact, it looked great on him. Will had missed that particular look on Hannibal. He cleared his throat, trying not to stare.

Hannibal looked at him and smiled. “Good morning, Will.”

“Morning,” Will mumbled.

“Did you sleep well?” He paused. “The second time around.”

Will nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

“That is good to hear. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Will said absently, taking a step closer to peer into the pot on the stove top. “Is that soup?”

“Yes, it is.”

“It smells…different.”

Hannibal looked at him, smiling gently as he cocked his head to one side.

“ _Good_ different. But…different.”

“I have added a few things.”

Will furrowed his brow. He hadn’t bought anything besides soup, potatoes, rice, and some drinks, and he really doubted vegetable soup and a fruit punch sports drink would taste good cooked together. “Did you go to the store?” Will frowned. “I thought we were avoiding people.”

“We are. And no, I didn’t go to the store.”

“Oh. Well, where did you get the stuff to add? And what _did_ you add, exactly?”

“Just a few herbs and spices. It won’t perform miracles, but it may make the soup slightly more palatable.”

“Oh.”

“I grow herbs around the cabin,” Hannibal explained.

Will nodded slowly. On his walks over the past couple of weeks, he hadn’t even noticed the herbs. But he thought back to Hannibal’s dining room in Baltimore with the planters full of green herbs lining the walls. He wasn’t at all surprised that Hannibal had more plants outside of the cabin.

“So, wait, you went out and gathered those this morning? Hannibal, you don’t need to be doing that kind of work. I really must insist that—”

“No, dear Will. I did not go out this morning. I already had several jars full of herbs that I had harvested in the past.”

“Oh.” Will thought about Hannibal’s time in prison and then his short stint in Europe before that. There was no way Hannibal had been to this particular cabin in three years. “They stay good that long?”

“Some do, yes.”

“And you made sure they were good before you put them in the soup, right?”

Hannibal looked at him with a gentle smirk on his face. “My culinary skills have not diminished as much as you seem to believe.”

Will offered a sheepish smile. “I forgot for a moment who I was speaking to.”

Hannibal smiled.

“Forget I said anything.”

“It’s quite all right, Will.” Hannibal returned his attention to the pot on the stove and stirred slowly.

“You must be feeling better,” Will said, his eyes wandering over the doctor’s clothing ensemble.

“Yes, much better.”

Will nodded absently, staring at the way the plaid pants hugged Hannibal’s backside. He swallowed thickly, the nervous fluttering in his stomach turning to complete embarrassment when he looked up to see Hannibal smirking at him.

“I, uh…” Will looked away and cleared his throat. “I should…go…and do something…that isn’t this…”

Hannibal laughed softly. “Will, it’s okay.”

“Lots to do,” Will mumbled.

“Will.”

Will sighed and looked up at Hannibal. The doctor smiled at him and laid the wooden spoon over the top of the soup pot. He turned to Will and took a step closer. Then, he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers over Will’s cheek.

“Trust me, Will. It is more flattering than anything else.”

“Still embarrassing.”

Hannibal smiled gently. “There is no need for you to be embarrassed about your desires.” He paused a moment and then added, “If that is, indeed, the reason for your staring.”

Will found himself nodding in agreement. “I just haven’t seen you in a suit in a while.”

“No. It has been years since I have worn a suit. I thought, perhaps, I would give it a go today.”

“It looks good.”

Hannibal offered a playful smile. “It’s a little more fitted than I recall.”

Will smiled slowly and then let out a quiet chuckle. “Yes.” Will felt his cheeks burn as he whispered, “That’s not a bad thing.”

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal leaned in and kissed Will gently on the mouth. Then, he pulled back, returning to the stove where he retrieved the wooden spoon and stirred the soup-and-herb concoction. He removed the pot from the burner and turned off the stove. “I hope you are ready to eat.”

“I’m sure your additional ingredients will make all the difference, but I am looking forward to the day when we can have a meal other than soup. Or rice. Or potatoes.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed with an impish grin. “That will be a glorious day, indeed.”

The two of them had a less formal breakfast, deciding to eat in the living room instead of at the dining table. It wasn’t an unusual thing for them since arriving at the cabin – since both men had been injured, they had opted for comfort over formality in nearly every situation. However, seeing Hannibal in a suit, leaned forward with a bowl of aromatic soup in his hands, was a sight that amused Will thoroughly.

“I could get used to this,” Will said with a chuckle.

“What’s that, dear Will?”

“The sight of you eating meals while lounging on the couch.”

Hannibal brought another spoonful to his lips. “You have not gotten used to it already?”

“Not in a suit.”

Hannibal smiled.

“Oh! I know just the thing to make this a perfect sight.”

Hannibal looked at Will through his lashes. His eyes were narrowed slightly as if he already knew the absurdity of what Will was about to propose.

Will grinned broadly, feeling the scar tissue in his cheek pull. “Lap trays.”

Hannibal shook his head but offered a small smile.

“It will bring a whole new level of comfort to our relaxed meals.”

“Perhaps we will be enjoying our next meal at the dining table.”

Will chuckled. He hadn’t done it much in the past, but he had quickly found that he enjoyed teasing Hannibal. The intense stares and the mild threats filled Will’s belly with a warmth he didn’t know he could feel. At least, not because of Hannibal.

He finished his soup and leaned forward, setting the bowl on the coffee table. Hannibal finished a short time later but immediately got to his feet, gathering Will’s bowl and carrying both into the kitchen.

“I can wash those dishes,” Will offered. He thought it was the right thing to do given that Hannibal had cooked for them.

“That’s not necessary,” Hannibal said, disappearing around the corner.

Will got to his feet and followed. When he entered the kitchen, he found Hannibal in front of the sink with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “It’s only fair.”

“Will, you have done more than your fair share since we arrived. Besides, I don’t mind the work.”

“All right,” Will said, giving in. It wasn’t an argument worth pursuing. Besides, given the doctor’s condition since the fall, Will knew how important it was to Hannibal to feel useful. “I’ll go get dressed.”

“After I finish here,” Hannibal began without looking up, “we need to remove your stitches. And then I would like to examine your arm.”

Will nodded slowly, feeling the beginning of a knot forming in his stomach. “Okay.” When Hannibal said nothing more, Will turned and walked to the bedroom. His mind was elsewhere as he plucked clothing from Hannibal’s closet and dresser.

He wondered what Hannibal would find when he examined Will’s arm. Had it healed or would surgery still be a possibility? Or worse, a necessity? Will hadn’t experienced numbness or tingling in his hand or arm for a few days, and the pain had vanished entirely. While he thought those were great signs, he was not the doctor.

He took the clothes across the hall to the bathroom. He took off the clothes he had slept in and the bandage on his shoulder. He eyed the sight of the injury in the mirror. The wound looked to have closed completely, and the bruising was healing as well as could be expected.

He set the clean clothes on the countertop beside the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. He retrieved the supplies he had used to remove Hannibal’s stitches the day before. As he sterilized the surgical scissors, he heard a light knock at the bathroom door.

“Come in.”

The door swung inward and Hannibal stepped into the room. “May I see your shoulder before you begin?”

Will turned towards him in answer. Hannibal closed the distance between them. He placed a hand on top of Will’s shoulder, away from the edge of the bruising. After a few long moments of staring – wherein Will realized how underdressed he was – Hannibal gave a nod. He turned towards the supplies on the sink and donned a pair of latex gloves.

“Scissors,” he said, holding out a hand.

Will gave them over.

Hannibal kept one hand on Will’s shoulder near the bruising. He used the other to carefully snip the stitches free. When that was finished, he sterilized the pair of tweezers and began removing the threads from Will’s shoulder.

Will braced for the pain of the stitches pulling free, but there was none. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised – Hannibal had been a surgeon after all. He undoubtedly had a steady, precise hand.

When all of the stitches were removed, Hannibal examined Will’s scar. He brushed his thumb over the puckered skin, lightly enough that it didn’t disturb the bruising.

Will watched his face, his eyes bouncing between Hannibal’s eyes and lips. Hannibal kept his gaze on Will’s scar. After several moments, Hannibal smiled and removed his hand from Will’s shoulder. He took a step back and began cleaning up the supplies on the sink.

“I will let you get dressed,” Hannibal said as he finished putting away the supplies. “And I will examine your progress when you have finished.”

“Okay.”

Hannibal gave him a small smile and exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Will turned towards the sink. He looked into the mirror, eyeing the new scar on his shoulder. His eyes flitted over the rest of the scars that were visible – the stab wound in his cheek, the gunshot scars on both shoulders, the long knife wound across his belly, the blade incision along his forehead…

He sighed as he began to get dressed. The rest of those injuries had healed. His shoulder, arm, and fingers had felt better lately, but he wondered how well he had healed internally. Would Hannibal still think his grip was weak? Or that he still had nerve damage?

By the time he had finished pulling on the red button-down shirt and gray pants, the discomfort in his stomach had increased to the point where he thought getting sick might be a possibility. He lingered in the bathroom a few moments longer than necessary, and when he finally mustered the courage to return to the living room, he had decided to ask Hannibal to put off the examination for another day or two.

But when he entered the room, he found Hannibal seated on the couch. The doctor offered a gentle smile and held out an inviting hand.

“Come, sit down.”

“Hannibal, I don’t—“

“Will,” Hannibal urged. He gave Will a disapproving look as though he knew Will was attempting to stall.

Will hesitated, standing in place at the end of the couch. He looked down at Hannibal’s hand that was still outstretched. Then, he glanced around the room, feeling desperate as he looked for anything that could distract them. His gaze landed on the fireplace where the logs had turned to ash and only a few glowing embers remained.

“I think we need another log on the fire. In fact,” he added, moving around the couch and making his way towards the fireplace. “We probably need to collect more firewood. I think I’ll go do that before—”

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal barked.

Will stopped in front of the fireplace, glancing over his shoulder. Hannibal had lowered his outstretched hand, and he was getting to his feet.

“Hannibal, it’s fine. My arm’s fine. And I can use my left arm anyway. It’s not a big—”

“Come, sit down.”

Will let his gaze fall, staring at the meager stack of firewood beside the brick fireplace. Will took a deep breath and, a moment later, Hannibal was at his side. He felt the doctor’s hand on his back and he was sure Hannibal would usher him away, but instead, Hannibal’s hand began to move, gently rubbing between Will’s shoulder blades.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous,” Will whispered.

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

Will nodded, staring at the smoldering embers.

“You said you have not had tingling or numbness in several days, correct?”

“Yes.”

“That is a very good sign.”

Will glanced at Hannibal.

“Surgery is not a likely possibility.”

“But it’s still a possibility.”

“It is not uncommon to be nervous about the prospect of surgery.”

“It’s not the surgery itself I’m worried about.”

Hannibal nodded. “I know.” With one hand still on Will’s back, the doctor used his free hand to slip his fingers between Will’s. “Come with me.”

Will sighed softly but let Hannibal lead him back to the couch. They both sat down and then Hannibal took Will’s right hand in both of his.

“The lack of pain as well as the cessation of numbness and tingling indicate that your arm is, indeed, healing. I simply want to gauge the level of progress you are making.”

Will nodded. “Okay.”

Hannibal proceeded to examine Will’s injured arm, testing the strength and flexibility in his hand and shoulder.

When they finished, Hannibal said, “I am pleased to say that your arm seems to be healing very well.”

Will didn’t bother containing his relieved sigh. 

“I would like for you to carry on using it sparingly as it continues to heal, however.”

Will nodded. “I can do that.”

“Which means leaving the firewood alone.”

Will smirked. “I can carry with one arm.”

Hannibal gave him an admonishing look. “We will not freeze.”

“No. Because I can carry firewood with one arm.”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes. “You will do no such thing.”

Will smiled and leaned back on the couch beside Hannibal. “How are you feeling, anyway?”

“Much better, thank you.” Hannibal sat back as well. He lifted a leg as though he were going to cross them but then lowered it again with a soft groan.

Will furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound ‘much better.’”

“There are certain movements that are still a bit painful.”

“It sounds like I’m not the only one who needs to take it easy.”

Hannibal smiled. “As you can see, I am not doing the things that cause me pain or damage.”

“Except taking several walks a day.”

“If you consider two or three to be several, then yes. However, those walks are nothing but good for me.”

“Okay, okay.” Will smirked. “So, they’re helping, then?”

“Yes. I can already feel myself gaining more energy and stamina.”

“That’s good.”

Hannibal nodded once.

“You are starting to look more and more like yourself,” Will said after a few moments.

Hannibal watched him but didn’t respond.

“It’s a good thing,” Will assured him.

A small smile played on Hannibal’s lips. “I believe we are both getting to a point in our recoveries where it may be safe to move on.”

Will took a deep breath, resting his head back against the couch. He thought about the prospect of leaving the cabin. He wondered where they would go. What they would do. Where they would make their new, permanent home. _Would_ it be permanent? And would it be _together_? He hadn’t fully considered the idea – or implications – of the two of them living together once they left the cabin. He wondered how quickly he could get used to it, if that’s what they were meant to do. But then he thought about them not living together. Living nearby but separately. And, suddenly, a part of that hypothetical version of him ached for closeness.

He looked at Hannibal again and whispered, “Will you show me Florence now?”

A smile crept across Hannibal’s face, and he nodded once. “I would enjoy nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 5 chapters remaining!!! =O


End file.
